


When It Snows Inside...

by Archangell



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Explosion of sorts, Joy and Happiness, Multi, Traditions, snow fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13029594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangell/pseuds/Archangell
Summary: What's a Christmas without traditions, excitement and things not going to plan?





	When It Snows Inside...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts).



> Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Boffin. 
> 
> (And everyone else too.)

Q let out a yell as he fell from the bed taking all the blankets with him and landing on the floor with an almighty thump. What in the world?

He sighed; James had always been a bed hog and pushed him or Alec out of bed. Luckily this time it hadn’t been the both of them and Alec hadn’t landed on top of him. Q had to use both his hands to count the times that had happened.

Sighing again he sat up rubbing his elbow, hopefully there wouldn’t be too much of a bump.

Wondering why they hadn’t thought to put guardrails up yet, Q squinted over the edge of the bed at the two lumps in the middle of it. Yes, only the two greatest spies in the whole of Great Britain (no, he really wasn’t biased or had favourites…) would sleep through their lover having a terrible start to the day. He would’ve thought with it being Christmas morning, the two of them would be up at an ungodly time, ready to rip open their presents.

But since he was up and they weren’t, Q decided to surprise his boys with breakfast in bed. He smiled, they’d love that. It was their tradition ever since their very first Christmas together, to have pancakes on Christmas morning and it really had to be one of his favourite things ever.

When it was his turn, James made the fluffiest pancakes with caramelised sugar and shards of toffee decorating the top. Alec made blueberry ones, topped with maple syrup, cream and strawberries. Q didn’t know why Alec had to use blowtorches or flame throwers when he made pancakes but for some reason he did. Thankfully Q never had to ring the local fire brigade yet even though he had them on speed dial.

Q made his patented Pancakes of Death, which involved finding every last bit of chocolate in the house to dump into the batter or onto the top of the pancakes. No stone was left unturned when he made them; if food looked like it had chocolate as an ingredient in it then it was included.

Alec begged and begged him for years to make a Milkshake of Death as well to accompany the food, which he did after giving into Alec’s puppy dog eyes. Not that he or James could understand why one would want to drink it as getting through the pancakes was hard enough. Though maybe he could understand if he gave it some thought. Chocolate was after all was on his list of favourite foods. Regardless Q gladly stuck to his (millionth) tea and James to his coffee.

Picking up the blankets, Q wrapped them around himself before heading to the kitchen, stumbling and yawning the entire way.

“Ooh, oops. Sorry fridge,” he mumbled as he bumped into the fridge as he opened the doors to grab out what he needed out.

Soon the bench was filled with all the necessary things. Scouring through them, Q picked out the cat food and other things he accidently got out, chucking them back into the cupboards, before grabbing the flour and a whisk.

Bowel. He needed a bowel.

Flour filled the room as the blankets caught underneath his feet and he ended up on the floor clutching his elbow for the second time. This morning so wasn’t working for him. Obviously it was time to bring out the big guns.

A roll of duck tape, a bag of frozen peas and a mug of his special Christmas Black Forest tea later and Q was back in action, all rugged and patched up.

Flour hung in the air, swirling around as the blankets whipped through the air. It was very winter wonderland-y, he thought as he lit the stove, only to immediately duck as a fireball whizzed over his head.

Bloody hell, Q forgot that flour could be flammable in particular circumstances.

Quickly he switched the stove off and grabbed one of many fire extinguishers they had, thanks to Alec’s love of anything flammable and explosive.

James and Alec stood in disbelief as they watched their boffin run round the kitchen spraying everything in reach with the extinguishers. The whole room was covered in white powdery foam.

Alec groaned as James jumped onto his back to reach the fire alarm and turn it off, causing Q to stop poking at and spraying the very dead and melted fake Christmas tree they had had on the bench.

“It snowed inside last night,” Q said with a shocked look on his face.

“Sure it did,” laughed Alec as he grabbed a handful of the ‘snow’ and lobbing it at Q, “Snow fight?”

Joining in the laughter Q and James helped themselves to snowballs.

Soon enough they tumbled onto a couch in front of the fireplace filled with presents, all dirty and sweaty, chuckling like mad and wearing big grins.

“I feel bad that we have to put our ugly Christmas sweaters on now, since they’ll get ruined,” said Q, holding his up to look at the cat wrapped in tinsel on the front.

“Don’t. The sooner they get ruined the better,” James stated as he pulled his suit themed one on.

A muffled voice came from inside the tangled mess that was Alec’s. Eventually with the help of some scissors, James managed to rip a hole for Alec’s head to pop out.

“This has got to be the best Christmas ever, even though there are no pancakes,” he said, wriggling so he could get a little more movement with his hands.

Q hung his head. “I can make it up to you later? Hopefully we’ll have enough flour for more.”

“No, you’re banned from the kitchen. I’ll make some for lunch,” said James as he started to hand out gifts.

Alec kissed Q on the cheek, “Seriously, Q, we had explosions, snow fights and we ruined our sweaters. What more could one want on Christmas?”

“An exploding pen…” James said, ripping into a present Q had given him.

His face lit up as he tackled Q off the couch whilst yelling with joy.

Q couldn’t be mad as he lay on the ground for what seemed like the hundredth time, with a very happy James hugging him. He smiled up at Alec and reached out to him. There was no reason why they all couldn’t bear hug on the floor for a while.

Alec was defiantly right about one thing, Q thought. This did have to be one of the best Christmases ever.


End file.
